


Catelyn Stark: Millionaire Matchmaker

by SeeThemFlying



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Matchmaking, F/M, Fake Dating, Matchmaking, Modern AU, POV Arya Stark, POV Catelyn Tully Stark, Totally stealing shit from Jane Austen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeThemFlying/pseuds/SeeThemFlying
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a girlfriend (or boyfriend, whatever floats your boat).That is where Catelyn Stark steps in.As King's Landing's most successful matchmaker, Catelyn has had a successful run of matches, marriages, and happily-ever-afters.Unfortunately, her latest client - Jaime Lannister - is causing her more trouble than most...
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 212
Kudos: 381
Collections: Jaime x Brienne January Madness





	1. Matchmaker, Matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

> So, I watched an episode of Millionaire Matchmaker and then this fic jumped into my head fully formed and I had to drop everything to write it.
> 
> It is sorta fake dating, so I hope this counts!
> 
> With apologies to Jane Austen.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a girlfriend (or boyfriend, whatever floats your boat).

Unfortunately, most single men in possession of a good fortune have _no idea_ where to start on the hunt for love in King's Landing. The city is too big, too brash, and too busy for a man with a contemplative mind to really sit back and take stock of the options.

That is where Catelyn steps in.

For the last six years - ever since her eldest, Robb, had headed off to university - Catelyn has been building herself a reputation as one of King's Landing's most distinguished matchmakers, catering to a glittering clientele. It was her who had facilitated the easy introduction of Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell over a round of canapes at the opening of the Baelor Museum's exhibition. She had been the one who had suggested that _perhaps_ Roose Bolton should look outside his narrow definition of femininity when looking for a wife, and a happy, healthy, _shagging-like-rabbits_ marriage to Walda Frey had swiftly followed. And it had been her who had quietly implied to Jeyne Poole that _maybe_ Ramsay Snow wasn't emotionally available in the way that she wanted him to be, and she should go for Theon Greyjoy instead.

Catelyn puts her successes down to three clear rules she imposes on all who join her matchmaking club:

1) No sex before monogamy.

2) Always be prepared to work on yourself in the name of love.

3) Always be prepared to re-evaluate what you are looking for in a partner, in the name of love.

Yet for all her successes, all her happy-ever-afters, there is one client whose fairy tale ending always seems to allude her.

"What was wrong with her this time?" sighs Catelyn, as Jaime Lannister comes to sit down in her office, fresh from yet another date.

Light is streaming in through the window, highlighting every single way he looks like a lost god. Jaime is wearing yet another expensive suit bought with Daddy's money, sporting designer stubble that is designed to be sexily annoying and is dripping with an arrogance that only inherited wealth can buy.

Under her judgemental gaze, Jaime shrugs, lazily crossing one leg over the other. "Ehh... she was alright."

"Alright?" asks Catelyn stiffly. "That's not exactly a glowing endorsement of somebody I specially picked out for you after extensive compatibility research."

Jaime looks faintly amused, all smirk and smugness. "What more do you want from me?" he says. "Pia was alright. She was nice. She was smiley. She was pretty... but that is not enough to build a solid relationship on, is it?"

"Last time we spoke, you said you wanted _nice._ Apparently, Hildy was too forward."

"She literally tried to give me a hand job in the middle of dinner. There is forward and there is _forward._ "

"Ami was forward in a more subtle way," counters Catelyn, powering up the copious notes she has on the many, many abortive dates she has sent Jaime on over the months she has worked with him. "She was forward but flirty, but you didn't like that either."

"She kept stroking my prosthetic arm. It made her seem a bit dim, because I was worried that she thought I could feel it." Jaime shakes his head, laughing to himself at the recollection. "And the less said about the time you set me up with your sister, the better."

Catelyn bites the inside of her lip to stop herself snapping at him. Sometimes, she sets clients up on dates with totally unsuitable people that fit their dating criteria to a T, just to prove that what they wanted on paper was not necessarily what they truly desired. Lysa had been one such experiment.

"Sometimes, you have to keep your mind open in dating. That's how I found my husband. I was originally quite into Ned's brother Brandon, but it soon proved that Ned was the one I had more in common with and..."

Jaime rolls his eyes and runs his hands - prosthetic and flesh - along the tops of his legs. "You've told me yours and Ned's star-crossed lovers story half hundred times, but it doesn't get me any closer to finding the love of _my_ life."

Catelyn bristles at his mocking tone. "If you remember rightly, Jaime, _I_ am the matchmaker. I..."

"And yet you keep setting me up with people that I don't like!"

Catelyn pushes her glasses up her nose, trying to calm herself. There is something about Jaime Lannister that riles her up. She has helped many different people of all personality types find love over the years, but there is something about him that is particularly obnoxious. Maybe it is his arrogance; there is no doubt Jaime is a handsome man, but there is no need to be so aware of it. Or maybe it is how entitled he seems to be. Although they have only been working together for a few weeks, Jaime Lannister seems to expect love to just fall into his lap. Catelyn thinks he needed to be disabused of that notion. Love takes work, effort, and commitment. Daddy's money can't buy _that._

"I told you what I want," continues Jaime forcefully. "I want someone strong but subtle, who is not afraid to speak her mind but knows when silence is better. I want someone tall and blonde and leggy who is not afraid of a challenge. And you've sent me on dates with shy brunettes and crazy red heads."

"Hey! My sister isn't crazy! She's just..."

"Not the woman for me." Jaime sighs in exasperation, his expression growing harder. "I would like to book another date this week, if you have anyone you think is appropriate."

Catelyn tries not to look at him crossly as she turns on her computer, which contains a database full of potential women; attractive, confident, lovable women. She doesn't want to force Jaime Lannister on any of them.

"I will do some work and get someone for you. She will be waiting at the Waterfront Restaurant at 8pm on Friday."

Jaime gazes at her wryly. "No longer trusting me to book my own dates?"

"After Arianne and the paragliding incident... _no._ "

Getting up from his seat, Jaime gives her a jaunty smile that some might have found charming. She finds it irritating.

"As usual, we will have a meeting after the date to discuss how you felt it went," Catelyn tells him. "I like to know that the men I match with the women on my books are treating them well."

"I'm a gentleman, I'll play ball," Jaime says, before getting up, looking pleased with himself. "But can you _please_ remember my criteria this time, Catelyn? I don't want you to pick someone who is not going to be my type because you think I should be _expanding my horizons_ or some shit."

That he is being so dismissive about her genuine attempts to help him find love makes Catelyn snappy. "I just worry you are not looking for a new woman, but for Cersei."

Jaime's expression darkens at once at the mention of his step-sister's name. Everybody in King's Landing knows about their affair - sordid and dark and dangerous - but, for some reason, Jaime looks a little fearful when her name is mentioned. He curls in on himself, strangely defensive.

"I'm not looking for Cersei."

"Then what are you looking for?"

A cloud crosses his gaze, telling of a half-remembered storm.

"Love."

He leaves without saying another word.

* * *

After Jaime is gone, Catelyn retreats into her huge database of potential dates and tries to find someone - _anyone_ \- who would make a good match for Jaime Lannister. His demands for soft but spiky, caring but cutting, and sweet but not submissive are really leaving her at a loss.

Margaery Tyrell... _no._ Too insincere.

Asha Greyjoy... _no._ Too sincere.

Daenerys Targaryen... _no._ Too... everything.

Catelyn is lost in the search for perfection in her database when there is a loud knock on the door, which jolts her out of her hyper focus. "Come in," she calls, even as she keeps her eyes locked on her computer screen. She refuses to be distracted.

As she continues to tap away, the door swings open to reveal Brienne Tarth, the lawyer who works in the neighbouring office. Over the year they have been tethered to the same working space, they had built up a rapport, and Brienne often pokes her head around the door to say hello.

"I've brought you a coffee," she says, holding out the plastic cup as she comes to take the seat that Jaime had recently vacated. "Black with two sugars."

Catelyn cannot help but smile. Brienne has always been very sweet.

"Thanks so much," says Catelyn, carefully taking the coffee. She doesn't want to get third degree burns, or stains on her expensive jacket. "What did you go for?"

"A latte," replies Brienne, before taking a sip. "Pod and I are working on a really intense case in the Westerlands, that I think is going to prove a landmark. _Lannister Inc._ is threatening homeowners' rights and the environment by illegally expanding their mine network under the city of Lannisport. We are trying to represent the few families who have been brave enough to come forward and challenge the corporation. I need all the coffee I can get."

Catelyn smiles gently. Brienne really is an incredible woman. She and her assistant Pod work in environmental law for next to no money, committed to fighting environmental degradation and standing up for the people it affected. It sometimes makes Catelyn feel as if her work - helping people find happiness - is inconsequential in comparison.

"Dealing with the Lannisters _always_ necessitates coffee," says Catelyn, holding up her coffee cup for a _cheers_.

Brienne nods in agreement, but then narrows her eyes. "Do you have to deal with a Lannister regularly?"

Although she prides herself on client confidentially, there is something so honest in Brienne's wide blue eyes that sees Catelyn spilling my guts. "Ahh, I'm currently trying to find a particular Lannister the woman of his dreams, and I'm finding it _very_ hard."

"Oh? You mean there is a Lannister who wants something more in a woman than ambitions to be an underwear model?"

Catelyn laughs under her breath. "Yes. Unfortunately, Jaime Lannister is very... _contradictory_ about what he wants, and I am finding it near impossible to match him with someone. He has turned down lots of perfectly nice women. Pia was too _nice._ Ami was too _dim._ Hildy was too _forward._ He wants someone confident but not loud, someone tall and blonde and leggy but not afraid of a challenge. He wants the impossible. _"_

Although Catelyn is busy outlining her every problem with her most difficult client, Brienne doesn't seem to be fully listening. At the mention of that name - Jaime Lannister - her mouth drops open, she puts her coffee cup down on Catelyn's desk with a heavy thump, and begins to babble.

"Jaime Lannister? As in Tywin's son? You are matchmaking for him?"

At Brienne's excitable tone, Catelyn furrows her brow in confusion. "Yeah, and he's a right royal pain in the arse."

"Can you arrange a meeting for me? With him?"

"Why would you want to meet Jaime?" she asks, before taking a sip of her coffee. "He's not a nice guy; he's spiky and confrontational and never gives anyone a chance."

Brienne reaches out and takes Catelyn's hand, gazing at her earnestly. Catelyn is surprised; from the moment she met Brienne, she has pegged her as a woman whose past causes her to recoil from physical touch. "Pod and I have been trying to get in contact with a Lannister for _months._ If I could just talk to Jaime, I could show him that what his father is doing is wrong, and perhaps impress upon him the need to work back _Lannister Inc's_ plans, or at the very least undertake extensive consultation with the community before they go through with them."

"And you think Jaime will listen to reason?"

"Why wouldn't he?" answers Brienne, baffled that Catelyn seemed to think that everybody isn't inherently reasonable.

 _Oh, she's such an innocent,_ thinks Catelyn.

"He's a rich playboy who had an infamous affair with his sister. I don't think he is the type who will be swayed by the plight of the poor. And anyway, I couldn't arrange a meeting. Jaime has come to me to find love, not to be berated for his father's business endeavours."

Seeing the argument, Brienne begins to work her bottom lip between her teeth, clearly thinking out her predicament. Catelyn cannot help but feel sorry for her. Every day, Brienne fights against monsters for the unfortunate and unrepresented, and is tormented by the fact that the people in power could elicit such change, but never seem minded to.

"I'm sorry I can't do anything in regards to Jaime," begins Catelyn, taking another sip of coffee. "The whole situation sounds so complicated, and I--"

Brienne suddenly lets out a dramatic gasp, nearly making Catelyn drop her coffee.

"If you can't arrange a meeting, maybe you can arrange a _date."_

"A date?" stutters Catelyn. "You would want to date Jaime Lannister?"

Catelyn had never taken Brienne for the dating type.

Brienne nods enthusiastically, blushing with excitement. "You said he wanted someone tall and blonde and leggy who is not afraid of a challenge. That's me! Even though I'm not a swimwear model, I could totally pass as meeting his criteria. It's not as if he'll want to see me again anyway."

"Brienne, Jaime is an _ass_ ," says Catelyn, wanting to dissuade Brienne from this disaster of a plan. "And he expects a _date._ I can't sanction you going to dinner with him at a fancy restaurant if I know your plan is to lambast him about mining in the Westerlands!"

"Oh come on Catelyn! I'll be on my best behaviour!"

Catelyn is sceptical of that, seeing as she knows how passionate Brienne is.

"I..."

"I'll only mention the mining a _little._ I'll try and be a good date in every other respect."

"Brienne, I'm..."

"Please, Cat," says Brienne imploringly, seeing into her soul with those big blue eyes of her in the way she was wont to do. " _Please_."

Flicking her eyes back to the database, Catelyn considers the prospect. Most of the girls on her roster would be simpering in the face of rich, sexy, Jaime Lannister, and in return he would bitch and moan that they are not _authentic_. Therefore, maybe it would be a good thing for Jaime to meet Brienne. Nobody is quite as real, as vivid, as her. He needs someone who will give him a taste of reality - a little disdain - even if it is only for one night.

 _Maybe this won't be so bad,_ thinks Catelyn. _Maybe it will give Jaime a sense of perspective, and Brienne a chance to take on the mining corportation._

Catelyn exhales as she surrenders. "Alright, _one date."_

"Thank you!" says Brienne, reaching out to take Catelyn's hand once more in her excitement. "This will help Podrick and I so much. You have no idea!"

In spite of Brienne's palpable joy, Catelyn cannot bring herself to feel the same. She is putting her professional reputation on the line, even if she feels like letting Jaime meet someone as forthright and unapologetic as Brienne would do him the world of good.

"I'm not giving him your real number and vice-versa," says Catelyn firmly, to which Brienne nods earnestly. "I can't have you harassing him about the mining if it all goes wrong, and I don't want Tywin having a route back to you, either."

"That's fine."

"And you've got to promise me that he won't suspect I only matched him with you because of the mining issue. I promised him a real date with a woman he might like. If he suspects I have ulterior motives other than setting him up with the woman of his dreams, I could lose a very important client... and he could badmouth me to the entire city."

Brienne holds her fingers up in the girl guide promise. "I will be on my best behaviour. I won't shout at him, or call him a rich pretty boy, or a capitalist adventurer. I'll let him believe I'm a real date. I will even wear matching socks for once, to show I've put in some real effort."

"Good," replies Catelyn. "I'm happy to help, as long as you don't spook him."

Brienne looks at Catelyn with amusement, her eyes shining. Perhaps she is wondering if it is really possible for a very passionate lawyer to _spook_ a millionaire playboy. "I won't, I promise."

With that, Catelyn and Brienne clink their coffee cups in agreement before turning to other topics. Nevertheless, Catelyn cannot help but feel a little concerned. Brienne is not a single woman in want of a boyfriend, but something else entirely.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a lawyer in possession of an utopian worldview, must be in want of a good cause.

Catelyn just worries that the clash of two universal truths - Jaime's cynicism and Brienne's idealism - might start a war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As always, I would love to hear what you think!


	2. Make Me A Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne go on their date...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> In lieu of "A Good Knight Sleep" being a little late (hopefully it will be with you tomorrow), I thought I would update this. I hope you enjoy.

The reason that Catelyn Stark - matchmaker extraordinaire - always picks the Waterfront Restaurant at 8pm on a Friday night for her most difficult clients, is because she has a man on the inside.

Well, a _woman_ on the inside.

In her last year of high school, Arya Stark has taken a job there in order to earn herself a little extra cash, and to hang out with her boyfriend Gendry, who is the trainee maître d'.

What can she say? She likes the little bow tie that comes with the uniform.

Arya had thought it would be quite boring - serving food to rich snobs does not exactly sound _fun_ \- but to her surprise, there is something entertaining about it. Perhaps it is that waiters are invisible to the rich restaurant guests, meaning all sorts of secrets are spilled while she pours their wine. It makes her feel like a spy, and she feels no qualms in tipping off blind item columns about the most lurid tidbits for her own amusement.

The only problem is, knowledgeable of her position, her Mum has taken it upon herself to act like the head of the Secret Service, and actively tries to get Arya to conduct high level espionage operations against the unsuspecting poor saps _Catelyn Stark: Millionaire Matchmaker_ sets up in the ambient glow of the restaurant.

 _Mum:_ So the couple I've got coming in tonight are called Jaime and Brienne. Jaime is an arrogant multimillionaire who looks like an angel but behaves like a demon, and Brienne is a sweet, kind, caring lawyer who really could do better. Can you tell me how it goes?

 _Arya:_ Erm... why have you set these people up? It sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. I thought you were meant to be a good matchmaker.

 _Mum:_ I _am_ a good matchmaker. And anyway, it's not a real date, just a fake date, but can you please do all you can to make sure it goes smoothly? Jaime really can be an awkward little shit, and I don't want him being rude to Brienne or whinging to me tomorrow about how I haven't taken his preferences into account or something.

Staring at the contradictory mass of information she has just been given, Arya rolls her eyes, even as she types her response. She has no time for her Mum's shenanigans, especially when they involve getting rich arrogant arseholes together with other rich arrogant arseholes.

 _Arya:_ Fine.

 _Mum:_ Thanks xxx

 _Mum:_ The lasagne is in the oven for when you get home xxx

Storing her phone in her apron pocket, Arya walks over to the bar. The restaurant is quite busy, but Arya is not the type to jump to attention unless she is ordered to, so decides to go and chat to Lommy until someone notices she's not doing anything. Unfortunately, she does not even make two paces before her boss, Yoren, appears out of nowhere and derails her from her intended route with a warning look and a wagging finger.

"Can you go help Gendry at the front desk?" he asks gruffly, keeping his voice low. "It seems he's having some problems with one of our guests, and I need to go and sort a stock issue out back."

Arya rolls her eyes for the second time in the space of thirty seconds. Yoren looks less than impressed.

"Don't you give me that expression. You do realise you are an _employee_ here and I am your boss, so when I ask you to do something... you do it."

"Yeah, on minimum wage," Arya retorts, momentarily forgetting he is her line manager.

Yoren puts his hands on his hips as he looks at her firmly, only the barest hint of amusement in his eyes. "Go. _Now._ "

Keeping her discontent to herself, Arya turns away from Yoren and marches across the restaurant. The familiar clatter of cutlery and low hubbub of voices that comprises the soundtrack to her life hums along in the background, but seems to crescendo when she locks eyes with a very flustered Gendry at the front desk.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, that's just restaurant rules I'm afraid," he is saying to a very tall blond woman with millions of freckles. "The Waterfront Restaurant has a dress code."

In spite of the fact he is armed with the rules and regulations, Gendry's Addam's Apple bobs up and down in his throat as he looks up at the woman, who is intimidating without even trying. She is tall, broad, and has clearly broken her nose several times, which Arya fancifully puts down to fighting. Indeed, Arya wonders if she recognises her from the kickboxing class she sometimes does down at the gym. She thinks this woman would be able to break Gendry in half without much effort.

Arya kinda wants to see it.

If they know each other from around, however, the woman doesn't seem to realise as she pays no attention to Arya. Instead, she keeps her eyes on Gendry, locking onto him as the target of her fury. "How was I even supposed to know about this dress code if you didn't even tell me?" she huffs. "I'm not psychic!"

"It's on our website," replies Gendry a little fearfully. "Under the little map that tells you how to get here."

At his answer, the woman scoffs, her shoulders rising with tension. "I don't care about the little map! What I am wearing is not exactly scruffy!"

Arya can't help but agree. Although she has not adopted the usual floaty long dress and six inch heels worn by typical female patrons of the Waterfront Restaurant, what she has adopted is still smart; she had chosen a sparkly sapphire blue halter top, with a pair of tight jeans that elongated her already very long legs. It is therefore not immediately apparent to Arya how this woman is breaking the dress code. However, Gendry soon points it out.

"I am sorry, but women must wear heels when dining at the Waterfront Restaurant. It is company policy."

"And company policy is sexist!" cries the woman, loud enough for patrons at the nearest table to turn and look at her. "You don't expect men to come in here wearing ridiculous instruments of pain on their feet, you don't expect--"

Even as a crescendo builds in the woman's voice, there is a little cough from behind her that interrupts her flow and causes her to turn around. In spinning around, she moves slightly to one side, allowing Arya to catch sight of the man standing behind her.

Some might call him handsome. Some might call him hot.

Arya favours _finger-licking-good._

Yet in spite of his good looks, it is clear his personality does not match. " _Some_ of us are waiting to be seated," he says, arrogance and entitlement dripping from his every word, his million dragon suit making him look even more conceited than his tone makes him sound. "So could you please hurry up whatever this is."

If the woman had been irritated with Gendry, she looks positively irate at this smugly sexy man, and seems to breathe fire as she faces up to him.

"How is this any of your business?" she snaps, rounding on him. "I am just trying to conduct a conversation with... with..."

"Gendry," supplies Gendry.

"With Gendry," continues the woman, drawing herself up to her very impressive full height. Arya notes that she is taller than the man, and it seems he does too, as his eyes roll from the top of the woman's head down her long body, momentarily lingering on her breasts. "As he is currently trying to justify the everyday sexism this restaurant engages in!"

While Gendry visibly deflates, the man looks up at her eyes again, scoffing at the back of his throat. "I. Don't. Care. In your quest to overthrow the patriarchy this fine evening, you are preventing me from taking my seat."

"And is getting to your seat in a timely manner more important than me being discriminated against?"

"You are not being discriminated against! You are just wearing the wrong shoes, meaning this private company is not obliged to serve you!"

The woman's face goes an unsightly, blotchy red. "And that is not fair!"

"The world is unfair," the man snaps back. "Get used to it."

It is the easy but cutting way he delivers that unfortunate truth that lights the fire. She steps forward, towering over him, her nostrils flaring in indignant rage. With the woman looking set to explode, Arya thinks it is time to step in.

"Ma'am, I am sure we can oblige you just this once."

"Arya!" squawks Gendry. "Yoren will kill us if he knows we've allowed a guest to flout the rules."

"Sod Yoren," replies Arya, stealing a quick look at the computer screen in front of Gendry which details the woman's booking. "It seems our guest is seated beside the entrance to the veranda, out of the way of others, so nobody will notice..."

"Arya..."

Fixing him with a firm look, Arya takes charge. "Gendry, why don't you take this lady to her seat, and I will deal with this gentleman's booking?"

"But Yoren..."

"But Yoren nothing." Needing to get him out the way, Arya bumps Gendry with her hip in order to be able to take control of the computer. He obliges her at once. "He's too busy tonight to notice anything. And anyway, our guest is very tall. Once she is sitting down, nobody will guess she isn't wearing heels."

Arya's offer finally seems enough to placate the woman. "Thank you," she says with a relieved sigh. "It's good to know that someone around here cares about what is right."

From behind her back, the man rolls his eyes, leaving Arya to stifle a giggle as Gendry leads the woman away to her table. Although she also believes the heels rule is sexist bullshit, there is something a little amusing in the way the man looks at the departing feminist crusader. It is disparaging, but also betrays that he is a little intrigued, especially when her hips start to sway as she walks away.

"Good evening, sir, and welcome to the Waterfront Restaurant," says Arya, trying to catch his attention from the woman who has gone in search of her table. When he looks back at her, it is clear from his blank gaze that he did not even realise he had been staring. "Can I take your name?"

"My name is Jaime Lannister, but I think the booking will be under Catelyn Stark."

At the utterance of her mother's name, Arya looks up from the computer screen at the man once more. _An arrogant multimillionaire who looks like an angel but behaves like a demon_ suddenly seems like a very apt description.

"Table for two, is it?"

"Yes."

Arya taps away at the screen, as if she is entirely oblivious to who he is and what is going on. It is not _her_ job to intervene, even though she would find it highly amusing to watch the way her Mum's plans unfurl.

"And where is your date?"

Jaime shrugs. "I don't know. It's a blind date. I'm meeting her here."

"Good luck."

At Arya's attempt at sincerity, Jaime shakes his head. "It's going to be a fucking disaster. My matchmaker seems to want to antagonise me rather than find me someone I might like. She's constantly harping on about me needing to widen my prospects, but really just needs to match me with a woman I might like. It's not that hard."

"Well, maybe this will be the girl for you, sir," replies Arya, feeling indignantly protective of her mother's business, even as she realises from the computer screen _who_ Jaime Lannister will be dating this evening. "Come this way. I will take you to your table."

Sighing, Jaime nods in agreement before letting Arya lead him away. As they walk across the restaurant, mindful of the guests, she tries to keep her smile at bay. She hadn't credited her mother with a sense of humour before, but _this_ match seems designed to be hilarious.

When they finally get to the other side of the restaurant, they find Brienne Tarth waiting there, her flat shoes hidden under the table along with her mile long legs. She is rummaging around in her handbag when they arrive, but quickly looks up when Jaime Lannister loudly proclaims "oh fuck" the moment he sees who he has been set up with.

"Oh god, it's you," Brienne says distastefully, as Jaime stares down at her, seemingly equally horrified at who he has been set up with.

Her words seem to jolt him out of his surprised stupor. "Thank you for sounding so pleased to see me," says Jaime, biting back even as he regains his composure.

"Maybe if you hadn't been so sexist about my shoes..."

"I wasn't being sexist about your shoes! I was fed up because you were time wasting, because..."

"Why don't you sit down, Mr Lannister?" Arya interrupts, having had enough of their bickering. Surely, the fighting was meant to come well after the honeymoon period had ended, and these two had barely said hello! "And why don't I get you both the drinks menu?"

Although he is scowling at this outcome and the fact he is on a date with _this_ woman, Jaime nevertheless sits down, suddenly looking very uncomfortable in his expensive suit. Brienne does nothing to help him; indeed, she keeps looking at Arya imploringly as if _she_ can do something to help _her_. Knowing intervention is futile, Arya decides not to get involved.

"I will be back in two minutes," she says, before leaving the two of them alone to enjoy their date.

Well... maybe _enjoy_ is not the right word.

Maybe _try not to kill one another_ is what they should be aiming for instead.

* * *

From the other side of the restaurant, Arya leans on the bar, watching the two unfortunate souls her Mum deemed it was a good idea to set up. Trapped in an obsessive cycle of observation, she feels a little bit like a wildlife documentary maker watching two clueless juvenile animals making absolute tits of themselves attempting to do a mating dance. She tries not to laugh, but it is too funny. Normally the people her Mum matches up at least seem to have something in common, but the combination of Jaime and Brienne just appears designed to cause an explosion.

"Have you taken them the drinks menu yet?" asks Gendry, interrupting her spying.

Arya looks at him, irritated at being disrupted. "No, I haven't."

"Why not?"

"I'm having too much fun watching them."

"It doesn't look like _they_ are having too much fun, though," he says observantly. "She's gone the colour of a tomato - I can't work out if it is in anger, disgust, or embarrassment - and he keeps saying things out of the side of his mouth. I know he's being snarky. I just know it."

Arya shrugs, surprised by the tension in Gendry's voice. "And so what if he is?"

"It's not a good start to a date."

"And?"

Gendry looks at her incredulously, as if she has not got her head screwed on in the right way. "Don't you want your Mum's matchmaking to succeed?"

"Not at the expense of people ending up with people they are _clearly_ incompatible with, like Jaime and Brienne here. I don't know why Mum set them up. It's clear they don't have anything in common."

"Well, maybe you should take them the drinks menu, then," says Gendry, taking on the tone of a kindly old teacher trying to chivvy a stroppy five year old into doing their maths homework. "Even if they don't turn out to be the loves of each others' lives, at least they'll be tipsy enough that when they look back, this whole thing will be a funny story rather than a nightmare."

Knowing that Gendry is right - for once, it happens so rarely - Arya picks up the drinks menu from the bar and stalks across the restaurant to her customers. She will do her job properly, just this one time.

 _A happy waiter makes a happy customer,_ she chants to herself, repeating one of Yoren's most obnoxious mantras.

However, it does not seem as if the two lovebirds are currently happy customers, as the moment Arya arrives at their table, Jaime turns away from Brienne to look at Arya, his expression betraying how extremely unimpressed he is.

"You took so long we stole menus off the next table," he says grumpily. "And we decided we would have the two hundred dragon bottle of Arbor Gold to share."

Although Brienne had seemed momentarily placated, Jaime's insistence on ordering for her instantly ruffles her. "Did we?"

"Yes."

"I don't remember that."

"It was just after you called me a capitalist adventurer, and just before you called me a smug pretty boy."

Arya finds it difficult to suppress her snort of laughter. Even though she can see that Brienne is incensed, it is impossible to deny that Jaime Lannister is beautiful - smirking bastard.

"I've only been gone a few minutes!"

However, Brienne does not seem to be listening, as her eyes were locked on Jaime as burning as laser beams. "I did _not_ agree to an Arbor Gold. Its two hundred dragons! I don't want to spend that much money on a drink."

"Who says you are paying?" Jaime snaps back, with a fake smile on his face. "As well as being a capitalist adventurer, I'm a _gentleman._ Ladies don't pay when they are on a date with me."

"Who says I want you to be a gentleman? I can pay for myself, otherwise you might think I _owe_ you something."

At that statement, Jaime smirks, looking like a cat who has just spotted a pretty juicy mouse. "And what would you owe me, exactly?"

Both the question and the knowing look cause Brienne to flush to the roots of her hair; making her look blotchy, blemished, and a little sweaty. "You know..."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes... urgh! Why are you being so insufferable!"

Jaime smiles; sunny, sharp, and sexy. "Because I want you to say it."

"Why?"

"Because I do," he smirks again. Arya can understand Brienne's frustration. "And, anyway, I thought you were a feminist. Surely you should be liberated enough to say _fuck."_

Simultaneously, Brienne and Arya let out a little giggle. As the latter hides behind the drinks menus, the former tries to defend herself. "I wouldn't have said... said... _that,_ " declares Brienne, her voice trailing off in the face of Jaime's predatorial grin. "I would have said that you might think that I would owe you _sex_ for buying me dinner."

"Oh, you won't feel a sense of obligation to want to have sex with me."

"No?"

"No," says Jaime, resting his chin on his prosthetic hand in a pose that almost looks angelic. "You'll just want to have sex with me because I'm attractive. You are only human."

At that outrageous statement, Brienne blushes hotly, then stick her nose in the air in a display of defiance. It is clear she does not want to even give him an inch. "No I won't, I don't like you."

Obviously not believing that, Jaime huffs with laughter, before leaning back in his chair. It is effortlessly charming, if obnoxious. "You still want to have sex with me though."

At that, Brienne goes even redder and starts babbling incoherently - clearly, she cannot bring herself to deny it - leaving Arya to swoop in and save the day. She can't believe it has already got this bad when she has barely left the squawking love birds alone for two minutes.

"Why don't you both get a cocktail?" suggests Arya, trying to smooth over the tension. "Our bartender Lommy has a Level 3 Cocktail Making Certificate and can make you anything your heart desires."

She had expected that Jaime and Brienne would take a few moments to think about it, so is surprised when they both answer almost immediately, exactly at the same time.

"I want a Blue Blazer with lime, not lemon," they say, in unison.

With their preferences mirroring one another, there is a shocked pause, before the pair of them turn to look at each other. Green meets blue and, for a transient moment, it is as if all the stars have aligned.

* * *

When Arya returns with their cocktails five minutes later, Jaime and Brienne seem to be discussing whisky in a foreign language.

"I prefer a youthful whisky," says Jaime, while Brienne nods as if she knows what on earth he is talking about. "There is something innocent and refreshing about it, whereas as dignified whisky is a little bitter."

Although Brienne carefully considers his point, it is clear she disagrees. "But you can clearly distinguish all the tastes in a dignified whisky. It's as if its age allows you to appreciate its complexity, and that it is not so simple as a youthful whisky. It has character."

When Arya returns with their second cocktails and their starters twenty minutes later, they had seemed to move onto another issue entirely, again one which she does not entirely understand.

"My favourite bit is when Goldenhand gives the Blue Knight _Oathkeeper,_ " Brienne says, stars in her eyes. "It is just so romantic, and neither of them seem to notice."

Jaime is smiling at her softly and, for a moment, Arya wonders if there is awe in his gaze. "I like the bear pit." He takes a sip of his new cocktail, appreciating the taste. "The cinematography in that moment is great. It is obviously the best film ever."

Brienne nods enthusiastically as she digs into her goat's cheese tart.

When Arya returns with the bottle of Arbor Gold and their main course forty minutes after that, Jaime and Brienne barely notice her as they are almost lost in their own world, jabbering about something she cannot even begin to piece together.

"... it's called alienation of labour, and it occurs when a worker is separated from the outcome of their labour..."

"I'm separated from the outcome of my labour in working for my dad. Those spreadsheets seem to lead to nothing at all, and he doesn't listen to me when I say I don't want to work number crunching. If I worked in corporate responsibility, maybe things would be different..."

"Yes! They would!" says Brienne excitedly. "And in that role, you might be able to make a difference for the people threatened by the mine in Lannisport, and make the shareholders see sense, and...

Jaime sighs heavily. "I couldn't, you haven't met my father, he..." Arya puts his nut roast down on the table in front of him. "Ooh, can I have some mustard, please?"

Twenty minutes later, when Arya comes to check on them, she assumes that she will find Jaime and Brienne talking about yet another unintelligible topic. However, to her surprise, she instead finds them gone, their table empty apart from their dirty plates. After a momentary panic of thinking they had run off without paying the bill, Arya eventually spots them outside on the veranda, bathed in moonlight. They are sitting on the wall that marked the edge of the open area and, intriguingly, Brienne has one arm around Jaime's shoulders, while he leans into her. Given their combative introduction, their closeness seems strangely intimate, especially when Brienne's fingers jump to Jaime's hair. Arya finds it all so baffling that she retreats like a shadow along a wall, not wanting to disturb them.

Eventually, the pair of them re-enter the restaurant, both looking a little red-faced leaving Arya instantly suspicious. While Brienne seems flushed and happy, Jaime looks a little embarrassed, maybe as if he has been crying. They don't say anything to each other when Arya comes to take their dessert orders, and she departs unsure of what the tension between them foretells.

"Shall we tell them that they are the last ones here and the restaurant is closing around them?" asks Gendry, just before midnight, as he and Arya watch Jaime and Brienne sharing the last of yet another bottle of Arbor Gold.

"Nah," says Arya, feeling something in her chest that could either be heartburn or the state of being heart-warmed. "They'll work it out eventually."

When Jaime and Brienne go to leave half an hour later, Jaime pays the entire bill, smiling at his date.

"I told you, I'm a gentleman," he says, as he gets his credit card out.

"But _I_ told _you_ that I don't want to owe you anything!" Brienne replies, blushing through her freckles.

Jaime smiles and it seems oddly gentle.

"You don't owe me anything at all... well, unless you _want_ to owe me something."

At that statement, Brienne crimsons so spectacularly that Arya feels a second-hand warmth in her cheeks. She hurriedly puts his card through the machine to avoid looking at them.

When Jaime and Brienne leave the Waterfront, they do not hold hands, nor do they say much when they vacate their table. Arya watches them, intrigued. Although she had been certain that this date would be an absolute disaster, Jaime and Brienne walk closely beside each other as they depart the restaurant and turn in the same direction once they get outside.

Arya is so confused by them - one minute combative, the next close - that when she gets a text from her Mum five minutes later asking how it went, she does not have the words to answer her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think!


	3. Find Me a Find, Catch Me a Catch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By Sunday evening, Catelyn Stark is utterly convinced her life is over and her matchmaking business is on the precipice of being ruined forever...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I decided to write chapter three of this beast, because "A Good Knight Sleep" and my smut swap fic are giving me problems. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> PS. The chapter titles are from the song "Matchmaker" from "Fiddler on the Roof".

By Sunday evening, Catelyn Stark is utterly convinced her life is over and her matchmaking business is on the precipice of being ruined forever.

Forever and ever.

And ever and ever and ever.

After all, Jaime Lannister is a powerful man with powerful friends. If he wants to ruin the Millionaire's Club, he bloody well can. With well-placed whispers, he could spread it around that Catelyn doesn't know what she was doing; that she purposefully matches millionaires with gold diggers in order to bring down the class system, that she is believes all men are narrow minded arseholes that need to think with something other than their dicks, and that she has strange ideas about what constitutes an "attractive" woman. If he wants to be more direct, Jaime can also play dirty. His father owns a literal goldmine, after all, and had once tried to get himself elected Mayor of King's Landing by hiring members of the mafia to intimidate voters at polling stations.

And she is _sure_ Jaime will want to ruin her business, because whatever happened on his date with Brienne had clearly been so awful, so terrible, so toe-curlingly embarrassing that he had not phoned Catelyn first thing on Saturday morning to complain like he had with every other date she set him up on since he joined her exclusive club.

"I thought you told me Ami was bright, because I'm not sure she can tie her own shoelaces."

"Is Pia actually in possession of a personality? Or has it all been dissolved in the acid bath that is her simpering niceness?"

"Did you know that Melara stalked me in high school? No? ... Oh good, because otherwise I'd put you down on the restraining order too."

Because she doesn't get Jaime's Saturday morning evisceration of the perfectly nice young woman that she had set him up with, Catelyn is forced to read the text messages from Arya over and over again in order to get _some_ details of what had happened during the date at the Waterfront Restaurant the previous night.

 _Catelyn:_ So, how do you think it went between them?

 _Arya:_ Well, she called him a sexist before she even knew his name, so maybe _not well_.

 _Catelyn:_ Oh gods.

 _Arya:_ And later, when I served them wine, she seemed to be lecturing him about Marx's theory of alienation, which I don't imagine is the best topic of conversation to have with a guy who has joined a club that helps millionaires find love.

 _Catelyn:_ Oh double gods.

 _Arya:_ Yep.

...

 _Catelyn:_ Do you really think it went that badly?

 _Arya:_ 🤷♀️

Catelyn isn't fluent enough in Old High Emoji to pick up the nuances in Arya's modern hieroglyphs. Does the shrug symbolise the nonchalant uncaring attitude that characterises Arya's whole personality? A bemused disenchantment with the whole affair? Or is it just a simple indication that Arya doesn't have a clue?

Given her lack of information, Catelyn spends the rest of Saturday pacing around her kitchen, waiting for a call that never comes. Jaime is usually so clockwork with his moaning phone call that Catelyn always allocates herself a free hour on a Tuesday afternoon so he can come and whinge to her in person before booking another date. That he has not contacted her in his usual ritualistic way seems an indication that he has given up on the whole dating thing entirely, and she anticipates that he will behave vindictively.

 _Oh yes, I can feel a storm coming,_ she thinks as it begins to rain. _I will have to find shelter._

Her fears about Jaime's intentions build and build at such an alarming speed that by late Sunday evening, Catelyn is ready to confess all to Ned and suggest they move Greater Moraq to avoid Jaime's wrath. However, the moment the truth is on the tip of her tongue, she gets a text from the man she most fears, knocking her out of her worries.

 _Jaime:_ I'll be at your office at 9am sharp tomorrow. We need to talk.

* * *

Catelyn arrives at her office a little early on Monday morning in order to set the scene. If she is going to have to face down Jaime Lannister over the worst date in human history, she would rather do it in style. It would be no good kowtowing to him, surrendering with snivelling apologies. She would have to answer his silence with sound and push back at any attempts to undermine her. Armed with a power suit and killer eyeliner game, Catelyn sits at her desk absentmindedly flicking through the database of daters, determined to look busy so she seems unaffected when Jaime arrives. Nevertheless, she goes over her lines in her head, replaying and replaying each potential scene in order to find the best cut.

_Brienne might not have been your dream girl, but all bad dates are a learning experience._

_On paper, Brienne ticks all your boxes. I thought you might want to give her a try._

_Oh just shut up you smug arrogant bastard! I'm the matchmaker, not you!_

Having gone through every scenario in her mind at least twelve times, Catelyn is so lost in her imagination that she is only shocked back into reality when Jaime himself appears looking like a whole new person. Instead of his usual expensive suit, he is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and has clearly not bothered to shave in a couple of days. His arrogant braggadocio - usually as pungent as a cheap cologne from the moment he walks into a room - is also absent, and when he sits in the seat opposite Catelyn, he gives her something that appears to be a sincere smile.

It renders her mute.

For once, Jaime Lannister - the most irritatingly smug man on Planetos - looks like a normal person, and not a man tailored into monstrosity by a power-hungry father and a dragon's lair of gold. It is extremely unnerving.

"You are staring at me," he says.

Catelyn blinks, no longer even pretending to type on the computer. She is too busy trying to decide whether this softer looking Jaime Lannister is a case of body snatching or not.

"What?"

"You are staring at me," he repeats. "It's a bit weird."

"I'm not staring."

He lets out a hiss of laughter at her indignation, which sounds strangely gentle. His tone makes Catelyn even more surprised; she always expects mockery from him.

"Yes, you are staring," he says, "and not in that judgemental way you normally do when you think I am being too harsh about the latest ill-advised date you set me up on over the weekend."

Catelyn lets out a puff of breath. They are here at last, the moment of truth... the moment that may jeopardise her entire business. Normally, Jaime likes to address things head on - _Pia is too nice, Ami is too dim, Hildy is too forward_ \- but this time he seems content to dance around it, letting Catelyn's anxiety build. He clearly wants her to speak first, which instantly puts her on edge; it feels like a grand strategy that he is setting up to challenge her.

"What was wrong with her this time?" she sighs, deciding the best thing to do is just adopt the same tone she usually does; tired and a little disinterested. "Too tall? Too stubborn? Too argumentative?"

"Oh, all of the above," agrees Jaime, in a lazy drawl that instantly puts Catelyn's back up. "When I arrived at the restaurant, I found Brienne trying to bring down the patriarchy at the front desk, and then she spent what felt like the next half an hour calling me a sexist. Getting character-assassinated by a blonde, blue-eyed giant is not my idea of a fun Friday night date, I have to be honest."

Internally cringing, Catelyn tried to justify herself. "I matched you up because you said you wanted someone who is not afraid of a challenge..."

"Oh, and Brienne is definitely that. She talked about leftist political theory for about an hour and told me my dad was an evil capitalist shit who exploits his workers for his own profit." Picturing the scene, Catelyn goes red with embarrassment, but Jaime doesn't seem to notice and just carries on talking. "I then got informed about the economic purpose of the minimum wage, and a protest against _Lannister Spring Water_ diverting water from a public reservoir that she is organising. That particular example of corporate greed is apparently also my dad's fault."

Catelyn closes her eyes, trying not to be overwhelmed by second-hand embarrassment.

"Oh gods, I am so sorry, Jaime." Not even Jaime Lannister deserves to have his entire family insulted on date night. "I asked her to be polite, but Brienne has a sharp tongue. I am sure your father is not an evil capitalist shit."

Jaime laughs darkly. "Oh no, my father is most definitely an evil capitalist shit."

Catelyn furrows her brow, disarmed by Jaime's honesty. "I... I..."

"Frankly, it was goddamn refreshing for someone to talk about him like that," he says, still smiling, his expression strangely dreamy. "Do you know how sycophantic most people are towards the great and terrible Tywin Lannister? _Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir._ But Brienne didn't pull any punches. She just called it as it is; she called him a _bastard._ And that honesty allowed _me_ to talk about him... and I've never been able to talk about my dad before... not really."

And then before Catelyn really knows what is happening, Jaime is _talking._ All the things that he had long kept hidden behind a sneer and a sharp suit come pouring out, even as his cheeks flush red with exhilaration.

"I told her about my childhood alone at Casterly Rock, and how I basically had to raise Tyrion all by myself because my dad was making millions. And I explained how fucking hateful dad has always been to Tyrion... just because of his dwarfism. And Brienne just _listened_ and wasn't weirded out when I got upset. So we went and sat in the moonlight on the veranda and just talked some more... and she told me about how difficult she finds it to get people to take her seriously, and that dating has always been hard for her."

Unused to _this_ Jaime Lannister - soft and vulnerable - Catelyn tries to use humour to get their relationship back to its usual mode of operation.

"I didn't realise I had arranged you a therapy session, not a date."

Jaime does not take the bait, and he is still lost in his misty-eyed reminiscing. "Oh, it _was_ a date. We talked about films and book and art... did you know her favourite film is _The Kingslayer and the Wench,_ same as mine? And we like the same cocktail - a Blue Blazer with lime, not lemon - and it is just so rare that someone knows their whisky, and she _knows_ her whisky."

It is as Jaime lets out a little sigh - the type a teenage girl mooning over a pop star might - that Catelyn finally puts together what is going on here.

"Oh my gods. Do you _like_ Brienne?"

"Yes, did I not make that clear?"

"Not particularly," replies Catelyn, thinking back over his earlier snarky comment about Brienne's feminism. "I thought you were going to come in here and tell me the date was a disaster."

It is then Jaime's turn to look confused. "Why would you think that? Brienne and I have lots in common." His expression darkens. "I thought that was what a matchmaker was meant to do; find two people who make sense together and allow them to meet... so they might fall in love."

"Yes, but that is not _all_ matchmaking is about."

"Isn't it?"

"Of course not!" says Catelyn, rapping her knuckles on the desk in annoyance. "It is also about getting a client to realise they are chasing the wrong things in love and match them up with people who will get them to re-evaluate their priorities. That was what Brienne was meant to be; a reminder that the fantasy woman who is spiky and passionate and your intellectual equal may not come in the most orthodox of packages."

As Catelyn's voice has risen to a shrill, defensive tone, her words echo around the white-walled office, before fading into a silence so cutting that she almost feels cold. The easy joy that Jaime had carried around with him since entering the room dissipates at once, and his green eyes are steely as he glares at Catelyn.

"Are you trying to say that Brienne is unattractive?" he asks, as if the very thought disgusts him.

"No," replies Catelyn, defensively. Brienne might not be the most beautiful woman ever, but she certainly has appeal, even if Jaime is not equipped to see it. "I'm _trying_ to say that you are not the kind of guy who would be able to appreciate all the things that are wonderful about Brienne. She's not some blonde with big tits who will massage your ego whenever you want."

Launching himself off his chair, Jaime begins to pace around the room, his anger like the aftermath of a thunderstorm. Electricity crackles in the air.

"I don't want some blonde with big tits!" he shouts. "I like Brienne, I'm _attracted_ to Brienne, and if you had been listening for even thirty seconds to what I told you I wanted, then you would have matched us up months ago!"

"No, I wouldn't have, because I would never have guessed that you would be the type that _Brienne_ is attracted to."

Perhaps it is Catelyn's evident bafflement at this turn of event, but something makes Jaime's anger sink into a kind of sullen triumph, indicated by the defensive way he folds his arms across his chest. "Well, she _is_ attracted to me," he says quietly, blushing again and averting his gaze. "After our date, she came back to mine for coffee, and then she didn't even think twice before getting in bed with me and holding me like I was something that mattered, like she cared..."

Given the delicate picture of intimacy that Jaime is building, Catelyn's stomach falls as quickly as a stone tossed into a still lake. Such admissions have repercussions, and they fan out like rippling water.

"Did you break the first rule of the Millionaire's Club?" she asks, balancing precariously in her tension. "Because if you have, you know I have to kick you out."

"And what rule is that?"

"No sex before monogamy."

Jaime turns to look at Catelyn, his smile dawning like a sunrise, even as something mischievous twinkles in his eyes. "No, we didn't break the rule."

For some reason, Catelyn doesn't believe him.

"Then you didn't have sex?"

Turning his whole body towards Catelyn, Jaime's smile becomes a proud smirk.

"I didn't say that. If you really must know, we fucked each other's brains out for two days straight, and Brienne only left late night because she had to be at work early this morning, otherwise we'd still be doing it now."

Catelyn gasps, appalled.

"The no sex rule is the _fundamental_ rule of this club!" cries Catelyn, getting to her feet so she can square up to Jaime at her full height. "It is there to protect the non-millionaires and enable them to not feel pressured and at ease when they are set up with people who have considerably more power and resources at their disposal!"

"Brienne is not a _child,_ or some defenceless little girl _._ She can make the choice to have sex with me - which she _did_ \- and in fact she enjoyed it, because she is a liberated woman who can make her own decisions about who she lets into her bed."

Although Catelyn knows deep down that Jaime is right about Brienne's ability to choose what she does with her body, she can't help but feel that Jaime is the type of man who will only hurt Brienne in the long run. Brienne is sweet and sensitive, and Jaime has a tongue that cuts like a knife. Consequently, Catelyn decides to hit him where it hurts.

"How do you know she enjoyed it? Is that your ego talking?"

"No, that is what Brienne told me," replies Jaime, walking back across in the room to return to his chair. It is clearly a conciliatory gesture, so Catelyn takes the opportunity to sit back in her own seat. Jaime smiles, taking her move as a victory. "Brienne enjoyed it, I enjoyed it, and I don't think either of us broke any rules."

"Oh? How did you come to that conclusion?"

Jaime pauses, seemingly weighing up what he is going to say before speaking.

"Because sex isn't just a casual thing for me. That I even shared a bed with her tells me that this _is_ going to be a monogamous relationship, that it _already_ is a monogamous relationship. So keep your wig on. Neither of us have broken any of your precious rules."

Perplexed by that statement, Catelyn looks at Jaime for the first time; properly looks at him. With his jeans, t-shirt, and first hint of a beard, there is something soft about Jaime that Catelyn hasn't noticed before. She wonders whether it has been purposefully hidden from her gaze, or whether it just got lost along the way and has only now been rediscovered.

"Does Brienne know this?"

"She will when I next see her," replies Jaime, regaining that misty-eyed expression once more. "I wanted to try to arrange to see her again today, but when I went to message her last night, I discovered that you had given me the wrong number for her, so I came here to get it."

It takes Catelyn a few moments to realise what Jaime is talking about, but then she remembers the agreement she and Brienne had made to keep the latter's phone number away from Tywin Lannister at all costs.

"I would have to talk to her to get her permission to release her number," says Catelyn, wanting to put the brakes on this whole thing before Jaime truly gets ahead of himself. "And I don't know when that would be, because I don't know when Brienne is next available--"

And then just at that moment - as if to spite her - the door to Catelyn's office swings open, revealing Brienne in a poorly fitting work suit; a ladder in her tights and a pencil tucked behind her ear.

"Catelyn, I'm just going to head to the coffee shop, and I was wondering if you wanted... _oh_."

Brienne freezes, her only movement the incremental reddening of her cheeks. The same cannot be said of Jaime, who leaps up from his chair as if it has scolded him, hurriedly pulling at his prosthetic hand to make sure it is on tight. There are a few moments of silence as the two of them stare at each other, waiting to see who will shoot first. Eventually, Brienne decides to draw her revolver.

"Jaime, I... didn't know you would be here."

To Catelyn's immense surprise, Jaime does not instantly reply like the smooth operator she has him pegged as, but instead stutters himself into silence, before finally finding the words. "I came to see Catelyn."

"Oh," says Brienne, sounding disappointed. "Are you arranging another blind date?"

"I... I..."

In spite of usually being an irritating chatterbox, Jaime suddenly doesn't have the words. He looks at Brienne with those big green eyes of his as if she is the one with the power to wound him. Quite suddenly, it makes Catelyn realise that perhaps Jaime is a little closer to the tender hearted man she had always suspected would capture Brienne's attention than she previously thought. Feeling valiant, she decides to sweep in and rescue him, his knight in shining armour.

"Jaime came here to get your number, Brienne, but I told him that he must get it directly from you. Your consent is all important."

Brienne's expression suddenly goes very, very soft as she looks back at Jaime, her eyes taking on a strangely sparkly quality.

"You did?"

"Yeah," Jaime replies after a few moments, sounding as if it is a real effort.

"Why do you want my number?"

Catelyn hopes that Jaime speaks as articulately as he had to her a few moments ago about his feelings towards Brienne, but it seems he is currently finding speaking a little difficult. Therefore, he settles on the next best form of communication. Crossing the room in one, two, three strides, Jaime does not say a word as he cups Brienne's face in his hands and pulls her down towards his mouth for a kiss that is a little _too_ passionate for a Monday morning. At first, Catelyn thinks Brienne is going to pull away as she just stands rigidly in his arms, her eyes wide, clearly not knowing what do to.

 _Kiss him back!_ thinks Catelyn, furiously, even as Brienne continues to act cluelessly.

However, it only takes one heartbeat more for Brienne to melt into Jaime, her arms wrapping around his back like ivy clinging to a tree. From the way that Brienne leans into him, Catelyn senses the way in which she wants him to be the strong one for the moment, to take her weight and not collapse with the force of it. Luckily, Jaime stays with her until the very last moment and then smiles at her when he breaks the kiss.

"You were saying something about coffee?" he asks gently, tilting his head to one side.

Brienne blushes, pretty in pink. "Yeah. You can come with, if you want. I haven't got long, but we could have our second date, I could give you my number... and then we could talk about planning a third?"

Jaime's grin grows larger as he snakes his left hand down her right arm, then intertwines their fingers. Brienne looks happier than Catelyn has ever seen her.

"Well, lead on, Macduff," says Jaime, squeezing her fingers. "I don't want to waste a second."

Brienne chuckles affectionately, her smile like sunlight as she pulls him towards the door. "You do know it is _lay on,_ Macduff. Lead on is a common misquotation that originates..."

Neither of them seem to notice Catelyn as they disappear off for their coffee - date number two - wrapped up in the story they are just starting to write with each other. Catelyn sighs. Having been a matchmaker for six years, she knows when relationships have chances and when they don't, and while it seems evident that Jaime and Brienne have that instant spark, Catelyn worries that their particular chemistry will lead to an explosion that could destroy everyone and everything around it.

 _It won't last,_ she tells herself, sadly. _Even if it would be romantic if it did._

Yet two years later, Catelyn has to consider that maybe she is not always right, for she receives an invitation through the post inviting her to Jaime and Brienne's wedding at Evenfall Hall on Tarth. Under the glitzy calligraphy announcing the happy couple's names, there is a personal message in a spidery scrawl that Catelyn recognises from the form Jaime had signed when he first joined the Millionaire's Club.

_Thank you for matching us! You are the best matchmaker in all of King's Landing, and I will recommend you to all my friends!_

Catelyn laughs to herself. Maybe the fundamental truths have not exactly changed. It is not a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a girlfriend...

But a wife.

Catelyn is very happy to be wrong, just this once.


End file.
